I'll Take Things to be Thankful For, Alex
by KricketWilliams
Summary: Morgan and Garcia are on their way to a party in a grumpy mood, when unforseen events cause them to reevaluate what they should be thankful for. A holiday kick off/Thanksgiving threeshot. As usual, I don't own a thing.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Sorry I can't answer reviews right now...FF is being weird...Ever had those moments when you are so stressed before holidays, you're on edge over most anything? I certainly have and I thought P and D probably have, too...I intended on this being a Thanksgiving/Holiday oneshot, but it ended up becoming a three shot...and who knows? Somewhere down the line it could be more...I'll let you all decide! ;) Happy Holidays, everyone! Love, Kricket

**Chapter 1**

"Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go," Penelope sang out loudly in the passenger seat of Derek's Ford. It was toasty and cozy in his front seat with the heater on full blast, and the smell of her homemade apple and pumpkin pies permeating the interior. It was snowing lightly, as it had been for the past twenty four hours, the fluffy snow coating the trees making the world look like a winter wonderland. It was a perfect set up.

However, those were the only perfect things at the moment.

Derek had chosen the absolutely wrong moment to irritate the crap out of Penelope. He'd been late picking her up. He'd gone out the night before, and because of that, he overslept. Not only that, he showed up completely empty handed. He was supposed to bring ice cream to top her pies, but Mr. Sleepyhead didn't bring it.

Yeah...she was pissed, and she knew he knew it, too.

"P, there's no rivers anywhere nearby," Derek said, looking in his rearview mirror to change lanes. "Wrong song."

It only took a second, before Penelope began singing, "Ohhhh, over the highway and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go..."

Derek shook his head. "Nope. Won't work." He shot her a teasing grin. "We're going to Rossi's cabin, and knowing his taste in women, ain't a grandma in sight there."

She glared back at him, and then began again, "Over the highway and through the woods, to _Hugh_ _Hefner's_ house we go."

Derek chuckled. "That's a little much, baby, don't you think?"

"No," she snarled, her patience as thin as a soaked rice paper, "since you are trying to paint him that way."

He paused for a moment, and then said, "Hey, I was just teasing-"

"Nooooo," she snapped, drawing the one syllable out. "You are trying ruin my holiday spirit."

"No," he argued through gritted teeth. "I was trying to lighten it, since all you've done is sing nonstop carols on the radio since you stepped into the car."

"I'm avoiding talking to you!"

"Obviously," he muttred. He was sick to death of _Jingle Bell Rock_, which made her dance in her seat usually, and _The Christmas Shoes_, which made her tear up always…because this time she wasn't. Because he was in a mood, too, he hit the button on the stereo, only to get another channel playing nonstop carols.

That just added insult to injury.

"See?" she cried, outraged for herself. "That's what I am talking about...being snarky and changing the channels, you mood blackener!"

"Your mood is your own damn fault," he muttered under his breath.

"What!" she gasped, staring daggers at him. "Say that to my face, buster!"

"I'm trying to cheer you up!" he growled. He turned to look at her. "Your mood was pissy before I even-"

That was all he got out when he suddenly felt the car lose traction.

"Derek!" Penelope cried in fear.

His eyes widened and he gripped the wheel. "Shit, baby...hold on!"

Dread filled Derek as they roared along. He fruitlessly hit the breaks, clenching the wheel tightly. He was so rattled, he made the fatal mistake of oversteering his car against the direction of the slide. The car turned began to spin and skid, and then slid into a farmer's field on the side of the road.

Derek said, "God, P…are you alright?"

At the same time, she said, "Derek! Are you okay?"

Their panicked and concerned faces matched each other's perfectly, which caused them both to smile somewhat despite their mood and the trauma of what just happened. Neither of them answered the question…and neither said sorry.

Derek turned back to the wheel and put the car in reverse, and then drive, and then reverse again. The tires just spun and spun, like Rumplestiltskin weaving gold for the princess.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Trying to rock the car out of this snow," he answered, lightly tapping the gas pedal. "I'm a native Chicagoan; we know how to get out of snow."

On an impulse, Penelope rolled down her window, saw snow and mud up to the floorboard of Derek's car. "D...I don't think you're getting out of this."

He frowned, and then tried to open his door. "Let me take a look…"

Penelope watched intently as he opened the door and mud immediately began to ooze into the car. "Oh, frack," she moaned pitifully.

Pulling the door shut the inch he'd managed to open it, he rolled down the window, and was greeted with blowing snow in his face. He undid his seatbelt and pushed himself up to hop out the window, _Dukes of Hazard_ style, but then looked all around the car.

They'd slid into the field a good fifty feet. The tires of the car were buried in mud, and mud was splattered all along the sides of his Ford. It would've been funny, if it had happened on tv, but because it was happening to him in real life, he didn't find it humorous at all.

"I'll call a tow truck," he grumbled, sliding back into his seat and rolling the window up.

Derek clicked his phone. Both of them stared silently as it rang, and realized it could be a very long few hours...


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. I wish I could respond to them! Here comes chapter two...Enjoy!  
><em>

**Chapter 2**

"Yes...I understand; it's a holiday..."

Penelope was listening carefully to every word Derek was saying to the towing company. By the scowl on her Hot Stuff's face, it wasn't good news. He looked so upset; she wanted to hug him and tell him it would be okay...even though it probably wouldn't be.

It was going to be a long Thanksgiving day.

"I hear you," Derek said with a heavy sigh, looking directly at her now. "Yes...happy Thanksgiving to you, too." He clicked off the phone. "Five hours."

"_Five_?" Penelope squeaked, and then cleared her throat. "Five? Really?"

"There's very few people in the mountains of Virginia working on Thanksgiving that drive tow trucks," Derek explained. "Good ol' Len from _Len's Crash and Dash _said we should've left yesterday when more people were around."

Penelope shot Derek an angry look, but hurt was close behind. "Oh, go ahead and blame me. I wanted to bake the pies last night, so I didn't leave, and now it's all my fault."

Derek shook his head. "Sugar, I'm not blaming anyone. I'm just saying what he said, that's all."

"Sure, you-"

"That's all, Baby Girl," he said in a warning tone of voice that he used very infrequently on her. She hated that tone, and at the moment, she wasn't that fond of him, either.

They were both very quiet. The snow was still falling, getting heavier by the minute. Her heart felt heavy, too. She had every good reason to be mad at Derek, and yet she didn't want to be that way. That wasn't the spirit of the holidays. A chill ran down her spine; she felt cold, bodily and otherwise.

"You're cold." Derek turned the heat up in the car, letting it run full blast. "We can run this for a little while longer, but I think we need to conserve, in case they don't come as soon as they said."

Penelope wrapped her fake leopard fur coat around herself, wishing she'd been wearing something like Derek's black puffy coat he was wearing. She'd stupidly sacrificed warmth for fashion. Her legs were the coldest, in their cute little tights with the embroidered turkeys all over them.

That made her sad again. Jack and Henry would've loved her tights...

Derek shut off the heat and the car's engine. There was no more Christmas music, no warmth. She was hungry, too. She'd saved all of her carb points for stuffing and gravy and pumpkin pie, and now...she had nothing but a bag of Twizzlers® to share with Derek (She was mad at him, but she still would've shared their favorite treat), and her pies.

She tucked her rapidly chilling nose into the fur and tried not to think about being cold and hungry, which only served to make her think more about it.

"That's it," Derek said, turning the car on again and running the heat. "Climb in the back, P."

Normally, climbing in the back seat with Derek Morgan held a whole lot of appeal, but right now...not so much.

"Why?" she asked.

"We're heating this place up," he said, pressing a button on his key fob, "after I get something from the trunk."

Derek opened the window again, feeling bad he was letting in blasts of cold air into the car. Penelope's teeth were chattering, she was so chilled, and her cute little nose was turning pink. He had to do something. He'd never let his Baby Girl suffer, not if he could help it.

Rolling up the cuffs of his jeans to mid calf, he hopped out the window and landed in mud up to his ankle. The ooze surrounded his feet, making sucking noises when he lifted them.

A harsh wind blew, threatening to blow him over. It was getting colder by the moment. At least it was freezing the mud so that he wasn't knee deep in the muck . He reached for his emergency kit—a blanket, a candle, flashlight and batteries, some water bottles—and some other necessary items.

"Here," he said, stuffing the kit through the window, and then began crawling back inside.

Penelope was already in the backseat waiting for him. He thought about all the times he'd had this same recurrent, sweet and dirty dream that had Garcia in the back seat of just about any car he'd owned. It contained a lot of skin and sweat and pure heat..and it never looked anything like this.

Derek rolled up the window, let the heat run for a few more seconds, and then turned off the car. He began slipping his muddy shoes off.

"Oooh!" she exclaimed, unfolding his kit. "A blankie!"

"Yep," he said, crawling in the backseat with her. While she began opening up the folded blanket that stored body heat, he folded the front seat forward, giving them a place to put their legs.

"I feel like Linus Van Pelt, getting so excited over a blankie, but I can't help it," she said as she shifted over a bit to give him more room to maneuver.

Once he sat, he spread the blanket over them, and then tucked her closer to his side. "Warmer?" he asked, his voice throaty and low.

"Mmm hmm." Penelope was oddly comforted. It was like so many other times they cuddled, watching movies or TV, walking to their cars from the BAU offices. It made her giggle.

"What's funny?" he asked, looking down at her.

"I don't know," she said, still smiling. "It's kind of like any other night for us...except my feet are cold."

"Your feet are always cold." Derek reached down and lifted her legs to rest on top of his, and then began to rub them in his big, warm palms.

Penelope reached her fingers out, clicking like she was working a television remote. "Oh, look, D...Game Show Network."

Derek grinned. "I'll take _things to be thankful for_, for a thousand, Alex."

"What is car emergency kits?" she said, phrasing her answer in the form of a question, like the game show _Jeopardy_ required.

His smile was brighter. "What is vacation?"

"Ooh! Good one," she replied. "What is a good movie?"

"True. Very true," he said, nodding in appreciation. "What is a good bottle of wine?"

"Don't tease," she said, snuggling in even closer. She was surprised that she was having a good time, even now in this situation.

Derek held up a bottle of Pinot Noir with a bow on it. "I'm not."

"Ooh!" she gushed, as he took out the pocket knife from his emergency kit and used the trusty corkscrew adapter for it. "With our empty stomachs, we're going to be hammered by the time the tow truck comes."

"Good for us." He pulled the cork and announced, "Got it!"

"Thank goodness for the Swiss,"she commented, as he put away his army knife.

He handed her the bottle for the first sip, and she sighed in pleasure. "That's the response I was looking for."

She frowned. "What?"

"Rossi told us he does white wine with poultry," he explained, "so I gave Hotch that ice cream on the list to bring so I could get a bottle of your favorite red."

Penelope felt her heart stir. She was being such a bear to him, and here he'd done something sweet for her. He was still late, but...

She needed to apologize, but she didn't want to think about it right now.

She decided to get back to the game, and think of things to be thankful for. She swallowed the forming lump in her throat, and said, "What are Swiss Army Knives?"


	3. Chapter 3

AN:Thanks so much for reading this little holiday treat...After Thanksgiving means getting ready for the holidays. I just spent a whole lot of money "Black Friday" shopping (including intimate apparel *blush*)...So from my heart to yours- Happy kick off to the Holiday season...Love, Kricket

**Chapter 3**

Derek grinned back at her, before taking a long pull from the bottle of wine. "That's a very good one. How about a long massage?"

"Spas in general," she said with excitement in her voice. "I love that feeling after a manicure or pedicure, or even a really great wax."

He chuckled. "Never had any of those, so I wouldn't know."

She bit her lip. "Ooh, how about what is a really great haircut?"

He patted his bald head. "Not a good comparison."

Rubbing his chilled pate, she said, "You're a tough customer, Derek Morgan."

"Nah," he replied, picking up one of her long blonde curls and twirling it around his finger. "I like the feeling I get after _you_ get a really great haircut."

The way he was fingering the fat curl, letting the silky strands slide through his fingers, proved to her he wasn't lying. He was mesmerized by the movements, absorbed in his task, like he could spend hours touching her hair. It made Penelope feel warmer inside and alive, and it made her wish for things...

Foolish, fanciful things.

"What is rain?" she blurted suddenly, shaking herself out of thinking.

Derek shook his head, like he was clearing some fog he was under. "I'm not Reid, but I think it's a drop in barometric pressure. Why'd you ask that?"

"It's something I'm thankful for," she said, feeling rather stupid. She should've came up with something better than that—it had been an obvious avoidance technique on her behalf.

Derek didn't seem to mind. He only smiled at her again and said, "What is strawberry ice cream?"

* * *

><p>On and on, they traded question answers back and forth while drinking wine. Most of the questions were really silly, considering she was kind of sloshed. Her feet were no longer cold, but she still had them resting on Derek's legs. She was running her foot up and down his calf teasingly, like she usually did back at home.<p>

Derek tucked her closer, the scent of wine on his breath soft and sweet. "You hungry?"

"Yes," she said, and then hiccuped and burped into her fist. "Excuse me."

Derek laughed and began searching the emergency kit. "Here,"he said, waving something in her face. "Have a Snickers® bar."

"I'm fine," she protested, feeling bad that he didn't have anything.

"Eat it, sugar," he insisted, peeling the bar and handing it to her. "You're kind of drunk—"

"No kind of about it," she argued. "I _am_ drunk."

He kissed her forehead. "Poor baby."

"That's okay," she answered, and then held the bar to him. "Take a bite."

He did. "That's damn good.

"Nice Thanksgiving dinner, isn't it?" he remarked sarcastically a moment later, but without venom. "Wine, Snickers®..."

She reached for her purse and dug out the pack of licorice she had. "I got Twizzlers® to add to the mix."

Derek paused for a moment. "The big bag, huh?"

"Yes," she said, smiling at him. "Enough to share."

Derek sighed softly and shook his head. "You're something, you know that?"

She frowned, confused, and not just because of the wine that was going straight to her head. "Why?"

"Even though you were mad at me for being late, you still packed enough to share with me," he said, tucking her closer. "You are a remarkable woman, Penelope Garcia."

She melted into his side, that same feeling of warmth and love washing over her. It was silly to ever fight with this man. He loved her, and she loved him. There was something so special between them, words couldn't define it. Right now, she needed to make amends in this spirit of Thanksgiving.

"Derek, I'm sorry I was so cranky earlier," she said. "I was mad about you forgetting the ice cream and being late. I didn't know you'd taken care of the ice cream earlier."

"I'm sorry, too," he said. "I shouldn't have been late. Forgive me?"

She looked up at him. "Of course."

"Thanks, angel."

He leaned down and brushed her lips with his, something he'd never done before. He'd kissed her cheek, her forehead, even the tip of her nose in the past, but never her lips. She'd always wondered what it would feel like. Even with the light brushing, a jolt rushed through her body.

He smiled wistfully at her, and then leaned back in his seat. "Speaking of pies...think we can eat them?"

"Oooh!" she exclaimed, and then looked sad. "They're in the trunk."

Derek sighed heavily. He _really_ had no desire to step outside again, but he knew it would be the best thing for them. Besides...he needed to cool down anyway. Looking at his mud-caked shoes in disgust, he girded up his courage, and then began to tug them on to make the trek to the trunk.

* * *

><p>It was bitterly cold and getting darker outside of the car. He'd run the heater in the car while he was gone and had Penelope roll up the window once he'd stepped out to keep the warmth inside. It hadn't worked; the wind was kicking up, and the lack of trees in the area meant there was no wind break.<p>

Once he'd climbed back in, Penelope had to help him remove his shoes. His fingers were all thumbs from the cold; he couldn't untie a knot to save his soul. She helped him back in the spot where she'd been sitting, which was still warm, and tucked the blanket around him.

It didn't help; he was still shivering.

Penelope shut the car off, and then said, "Move the blanket, Cold Stuff."

He did, and she surprised him by sitting on his lap. He tucked the blanket around them both and held her close, their body heat melding beneath the blanket. "Thanks, sweetheart."

She snuggled closer and tucked the blanket in under their chins better. "My pleasure."

An hour later, they were full of pumpkin and apple pies and had finished the bottle of red wine. All in all, it had been a rather tasty, if horribly unbalanced, meal. They were also still playing the ridiculous game of _Jeopardy_ they'd started hours ago.

"What is my warm Baby Girl?" Derek murmured. Her head was rested on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck, and she was toasty warm.

"What is my hot Hot Stuff?" she teased back, sighing happily. She glanced up at him to wink.

"What is my Baby Girl's friendship?" he said, and although he still smiled, his eyes held a touch of seriousness.

"Your friendship, too."

"What is her sweetness, her laugh, her enduring support?"

"Derek..."

"What is the way she smiles, her dirty sense of humor, and her compassion?"

"Okay, Hot Stuff," she mumbled. She looked away, the blush coming to her cheeks not just from the wine. Despite her self-proclaimed proficiency and goddess status on any computer system, she was a very humble person. She didn't take compliments too easily. "Time to change the category on the board."

"Baby Girl, it has changed," he murmured, his voice low and buttery soft. "That category changed for me a long, long time ago."

"To what?" she whispered, her heartbeat accelerating at the look in his eyes. She knew...oh God...could it...

"To _Things That Made Me Fall in Love With You," _he said fiercely, cupping her cheek in his hand. "Because that is what I am truly thankful for this year."

"Oh, Derek," she whispered as he cupped his hand on the back of her head, lowered his mouth, and melded his lips to hers.

The world began to spin and goose bumps rolled over her skin, both of which had nothing to do with wine or cold. She slid her hands up his chest, hard through layers of parka, to the broad shoulders she'd leaned on so many times before.

She opened her mouth, welcoming the intrusion of his tongue, and tasted him fully. The sweet wine, spicy pumpkin, and tart apples were no comparison to the unique maleness of him. Derek tasted clean and heady; she could go on kissing him forever.

Derek seemed to have the same idea. He never lessened his caresses, never stopped kissing some part of her—her neck, her ear, her mouth. He treated her like she was his Thanksgiving meal, with all the trimmings, and he was going to devour her.

Kissing him back with abandon, she stroked her tongue against his, loving the growling he could hear from deep in his throat. It made her feel like he was just barely leashing something primitive and wild, and he was losing control. She could feel him hard and heavy pressing up against her, too, and knew he wanted her like she wanted him...

A knocking on the window caused them to startle. A flashlight peered into the window. "Anyone in there? This is Len!"

Good Lord! How long had they been kissing? Penelope went to slide off of his lap so he could deal with Len, but he clamped his arms around her waist, making her stay put.

"Hold on a minute," he said to her, and then he yelled out. "Yes. We're in here."

"Okay! We'll have you outta there in a jiffy!"

Derek cupped Penelope's face in his hands and said, "I love you, Penelope. We're nowhere near done, you and I; you know that, right?"

She nodded, a bright smile on her face that could be seen clearly in the dim interior. "I love you, too...and we've only gotten started."

He kissed her softly as the sound of chains from the tow truck rattled loudly. "Then this is the best Thanksgiving I've ever had."

Penelope sighed happily. She couldn't have agreed more...

_**Forever on Thanksgiving Day The heart will find the pathway home.**__~Wilbur D. Nesbit_


End file.
